Standing in the Rain
by la x noelle
Summary: Every day was the same thing, hurt, pain and agony. Was there a reason for living anymore? Did anyone see the pain in his eyes- or had he finally become forgotton. One- shot.


**Summary:** Every day was the same thing, hurt, pain and agony. Was there a reason for living anymore? Did anyone see the pain in his eyes- or had he finally become forgotton. One- shot.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter in any way, and I am not making any sort of profit off of this story. Harry Potter belongs to the brilliant and creative mind of Joanne Rowling, and I would sell my soul to own it.

**Standing in the Rain**

_The Prologue:_

He had been a prestigious Auror. Everyone either knew him, or knew of him. His face had been in the Daily Prophet so many times, it wasn't possible to count. People who had passed him in the streets, would stop him wherever he was, and try to strike up a conversation with 'the-famous-one'. Everyone had thought he would be the one who would solve all their problems. Make the wizarding society safe, drive the Death Eaters away, and create a picture perfect happy ending. They couldn't take it when it turned out their hopes and dreams had gone to waste, and their 'happy ending' would never come.

Harry had caved underneath the stress of it all, finally exploding and obliviating anything that was in his path. This same fate, could have very easily been placed on someone else. Neville Longbottom perhaps, or even Ronald Weasley. Ronald Weasley, the very man Harry had destroyed in his outrage. Not destroyed in the sense that he had killed him, but now he was mentally unstable, a permanent resident of St. Mungo's Hospital. He had been told, it would be a miracle of Ronald learned how to tie his shoes again.

_The Story:_

This morning, was no different then any other weekend morning. Yes, on the weekends Harry allowed himself to be 'treated', if that was what it could be called. Some people would say, it was sinking lower then Hell and he should be ashamed that he had to resort as to hiring someone to give him pleasure. He rolled over onto his side to face the female laying next to him, she was sound asleep.

What had she said her name was? Had Harry really been paying attention when she said it? Of course not, he wanted her for the same reason he had wanted every other girl who had fallen asleep in his bed. For pleasure, and that was it, a one night stand. Tiredly he reached over and grabbed his glasses off of his nightstand, placing them on his face in the same routine he had done for the past twenty four years of his life.

Then, the name struck him. Amber, that was indeed it. Or it was something very close to it. She was prettier then most of the girls he had over the past few weeks or so. She wasn't as thin as a stick, nor was she fat- but layed somewhere in the middle. Her body curved in all the right places, although she was quite petite for her age. Fiery red hair sprawled out on the pillow underneath her head, tangled and knotted now.

Harry sighed and stretched, sitting up and running his hand through his untamed jet-black hair. It was just as unruly as ever, and he had given up trying to tame it. He had given up a lot of things, his will to live, his love of life, his friends, his job, his sanity. It had all disappeared just as quickly as it had come. As he did every morning, Harry roughly shook the girl laying next to him. "Get up." He hissed cooly, his voice hoarse from the lack of use. The red head slowly opened her eyes, blinking several times until the room came into focus again, her surroundings not _clicking _with her brain just yet.

Harry hung his feet over the edge of the bed, stepping onto the cold hardwood flooring beneath him, not retreating back underneath the covers like he would of when he was younger. In slight frustration, he pulled open the top door of his nightstand; retrieving a fifty dollar bill and shoving it into Amber's small palm. "Here you go, now get out." Harry snapped, his gaze following her until she had left the room, muttering many inaudible things underneath her breath as she did so.

Sighing, he made his way over to his dresser riffling through a few drawers until he found a grey t-shirt and a pair of blue faded jeans. He pulled the t-shirt over her head, and stepped into his dreams, doing up the zipper and fastening the button as he walked out of the room and into the kitchen of his apartment. It was all Harry could afford now, an apartment, after losing his job when he had sent his friend to St. Mungo's. The whole Order thought Harry had finally snapped and lost his mind. No one understood him now, and after three years of living on his own- he assumed they had all forgotton about him.

Harry picked his wand up off the counter and waved it at the table, causing a steaming cup of black coffee to appear. He pulled out the chair, ignoring the scratching noise it caused when it scraped across the floor, and he sat down- taking a sip of his drink and sighing contently when the warmth eased down his throat. No one had bothered talking to him after what he had done. Hermione had been too devestated to even bother contacting him, he had hurt her, scarred her for life; plain and simple. She would never forgive him for that.

"What a pity, she was quite lovely." Harry said to himself outloud, his voice echoing off the bare walls and coming back to him. He had lived in this apartment for three years, and there were still boxes that needed to be unpacked in some rooms. He had been too lazy to furnish it, not that he could afford to do so anyways. Harry grabbed the handle of his mug in his right hand, and ventured into his living room- his bare feet leaving imprints in the carpeting.

He walked out onto the balcony of his apartment, looking down at the streets below him. Children laughed and sang, dancing in the streets without a care in the world. His ears could pick their happy sounds out from the rest of the busy bustle that was the streets of London. "I could of had that. I could of been happy." Harry whispered longingly to himself, taking another sip of his coffee.

But why dwell on the past?

No one cared about him anymore. No one sent him owls, or talked to him in the streets. Ron was as good as gone, and Hermione had moved on. Ginny had grown up and probably had a family of her own. He had decided to give up wishing, and wondering about what _could_ have been. Harry would continue to live this way, until he died.

After all, tomorrow was another day...

**Author's Note:** Completely and entirely pointless, I know.. But it was in my head for so long and needed to go.. somewhere.. So read.. and review..


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